


it’s not home without you

by elisela



Series: the trees of vermont [5]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: “I’m regretting letting you order those chocolate chip pancakes,” Eddie says, eyeing his son with a grimace. “I have a feeling this sugar crash is not going to be fun.”“I’m not sugary, I’m excited,” Chris says, grinning. “Buck and I have something to tell you!”Buck busies himself with shuffling through the sugar packets, picking out three and ripping them open. “Yeah, um,” he says, pouring the sugar into his cup and clattering his spoon around noisily while he stirs, “remember how you told me you’ve never been skiing?” He glances across the table at Chris, who’s still bouncing happily, but can’t make himself look at Eddie. “Uh, I know we have a few good beginner’s trails here on the mountain but I booked us a cabin at a resort a few hours away, and it’s really good for beginners.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: the trees of vermont [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790356
Comments: 20
Kudos: 220





	it’s not home without you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spinningincircles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/gifts).



> So I wanted a prompt for my 30th 911 fic and Lauren gave me a GREAT one, which quickly got away from me when we started playing “choose your own buddie” which by the way is HARD but also she made great choices so thank you Lauren!

Buck wakes to the sound of crutches clattering on the stairs, Christopher’s cheerful voice singing Jingle Bells from down the hallway. He yawns before opening his eyes, rolling from his side to his back and reaching down to the floor for his shirt. The shower is running in the bathroom and he takes a moment to wish he had woken up early enough to join Eddie before there’s a knock on the half-open door. 

“Dad?”

“He’s in the shower, buddy,” Buck answers, sitting up and pulling his t-shirt on, realizing too late that he’d grabbed Eddie’s by mistake; the material pulls snug across his shoulders. “You can come in though.”

The door swings the rest of the way open to reveal Eddie’s smiling son, curly hair sticking in all directions, still in his pajamas. “Morning, Buck,” he says, crossing the room and dropping onto Eddie’s side of the bed. “It’s surprise day!”

“Sure is,” Buck says, grinning as he makes sure his lower half is still firmly tucked under the covers. He’d forgotten to put sweats back on last night, and even though he likes Chris a lot, his relationship with Eddie is still relatively new and he’s not entirely comfortable around him yet, especially in these situations. 

Eddie, frankly, hasn’t been helping—Buck had spent a considerable amount of time in the beginning of their relationship reading everything he could get his hands on about dating a single parent so he could make sure to maintain appropriate boundaries, but Eddie hasn’t done his part in following the universal rules Buck had read. They couldn’t, obviously, wait to introduce Buck to Christopher, but it was like Eddie decided to throw the rest of the advice right out the window along with it. If Chris asked Buck for anything, Eddie would just raise his eyebrow and shrug, perfectly willing to let Buck decide. If Chris wandered into the kitchen while they were making out, Eddie would just laugh softly and pull Buck in again, kissing him until Chris made a funny noise or laughed at them. 

Buck was trying to follow all the rules, which was exceptionally difficult when Eddie wasn’t following any of them. 

“Are you taking Dad right away?” Chris asks, rolling onto his side and blinking up at Buck. 

“Not right away, but soon,” Buck says, checking the alarm clock next to the bed. “It doesn’t take very long to get to the ski resort, just about two hours. So we have some time. What do you think, should you and I make scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast, or walk down to Bobby’s?”

“Bobby’s!” Chris exclaims, grinning up at him. “Maybe I can even stay in pajamas,” he adds, and Buck shrugs. 

“You’ll have to ask your dad,” he says. “Chris, are you sure you don’t want to come with? We still have time to get you some ski clothes if you want. We need to pick them up for your dad anyway.” He’s only rented a small cabin, a simple a-frame with no bedrooms, but Buck would be fine sleeping on the couch if Chris changed his mind.

“No, I wanna stay with Harry,” Chris responds immediately. “He said he can put his Switch on the television and we can play Undertale, _and_ that he knows where May hides all the good snacks and we can sneak them.”

Buck snorts. “You know if you go around telling everyone, May might hide them in a better place. Why don’t we swing by the store on the way back from Bobby’s and pick up some snacks for you two, just in case you can’t find May’s?”

Chris tosses an arm around his waist and hugs him before rolling onto his back and pushing himself into a sitting position. “You’re the _best_ , Buck,” he says, and Buck can feel himself blush as he tousles Christopher’s hair. “Can I see where you’re going again?”

The shower turns off as Buck reaches for his phone, swiping it to unlock and handing it over. “Should we tell him now?”

“After breakfast,” Chris whispers, already scrolling through the resort’s Instagram page. Buck watches over his shoulder until Eddie walks in the room, towel tied low on his hips. Chris drops the phone into Buck’s lap right before Eddie leans over the bed and kisses his forehead. “Hey Dad,” he says, with such put-on innocence that Eddie narrows his eyes.

“Good morning, Chris,” he says, glancing over at Buck. “What’s up?”

“Buck says we can go to Bobby’s for breakfast.” 

He knows that Eddie won’t mind, because, again, he’s not following any of the rules about dating as a single parent, but he can’t help the small wave of anxiety that comes after the words are out of Chris’ mouth. “I probably should have asked you first,” he says to Eddie. “Sorry.”

Eddie just shrugs, lifting Chris off the bed and setting him down. “You want Bobby’s, you better go shower like I told you to do last night,” he says, clearly ignoring the way Chris sighs. “Get going.”

It frustrates Buck, the way Eddie always responds to his apologies or questions about Chris with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter one way or another what Buck does or says. He’s pretty sure Eddie does have an opinion—Buck had read his book after all, and he’s well aware that Eddie had spent several dozen pages talking about how grated on him when his parents had made decisions for him. He doubts, somehow, that a person who strives to have everything under control is really so relaxed about someone they’ve known for all of three months pushing into their kid’s life like this. 

He loves Eddie, but sometimes it still feels like he’s just waiting for the fallout. 

He doesn’t have much time to think about it, or ask, because the second Chris disappears from view, Eddie’s pulling Buck down onto the bed and kissing him like his life depends on it, and Buck forgets about the world from the second Eddie’s hands bury in his hair. He kisses him back, rolling until he’s on top of Eddie, palms pressing into Eddie’s shoulders and pinning him down. They kiss for a long minute, tongues sliding against each other, teeth nipping at bottom lips, until Eddie moves one hand to press against the small of Buck’s back. 

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, already breathless, and Buck groans into the space between them as he rolls his hips against Eddie’s, reaching in between them to move the towel and pull his boxers down far enough that when he grinds against Eddie next, there’s nothing in the way. He reaches behind him, grabs the neck of the shirt and starts to pull, only to have Eddie’s hand clamp around his wrist. “Keep it on,” he says, pulling Buck back down and kissing along his jaw.

He moves his left arm back down to the bed and braces himself with it, reaching in between their bodies with the right and taking both of them in hand, stroking slowly. “I can definitely wear them more often for you,” he says, tilting his head and sucking at the hollow of Eddie’s throat, trying to find a good rhythm with his hand as Eddie continues to thrust up into him. “I like smelling like you.”

Eddie groans, pulling him in closer. “Want your mouth,” he says as Buck sucks on his earlobe. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says, pulling back and winking. He’s so hard he aches for Eddie, but he slides down the bed a little, pressing a kiss over Eddie’s heart. Eddie’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him down, but before he can get any further—

“Dad!”

They both jump; Buck nearly falls off the bed, grabbing for the blanket to cover himself as Eddie flips over onto his stomach and groans, burying his head in a pillow. 

“Dad, the handle is stuck!”

Buck releases a breath; Chris is still downstairs, thankfully, but his heart won’t stop pounding. 

“Be right there,” Eddie calls back, and after a moment, starts to laugh. “Guess I should have woken you up when I wanted to. Next time I’m not going to be so concerned for your beauty sleep,” he says, looking over his shoulder and winking. “Not that you need it.”

Buck laughs, letting the blanket fall off him as he stands up and slaps Eddie’s bare ass lightly, leaning over to kiss his thigh. He strips off his shirt and tosses it towards the laundry hamper, kicks the boxers hanging around his knees in the same direction, and steps into the still steamy bathroom. The hot water feels good on his tense shoulders, his body still holding the spike of panic he’d felt at Chris’ voice, and he leans against the tiled wall and lets the water rush over him. 

Now that the day of their trip is here, he feels an anxiety in his gut that he’s uncomfortable with. He’d planned it on a whim two weeks ago, after hearing that Eddie had never gone skiing; he’d moved to Vermont just after ski season ended, and growing up in Texas hadn’t afforded him the opportunity of learning when he was younger. Buck had mentioned the season opening on Thanksgiving and had started making plans to go after his finals were over the second Eddie admitted he’d never been. He hadn’t meant to make it a secret, but when Chris had heard about it, he got so excited about surprising his dad that Buck went along with it. But as the temperature dropped sharply between Thanksgiving and the day of their departure, Eddie’s complaints about the bitter cold had increased, and Buck couldn’t help but have a few second thoughts about the whole thing—especially telling Eddie that they’d be going by themselves, and he’d arranged for Chris to stay overnight with Bobby and Athena. 

He takes a deep breath and sticks his head under the spray, trying to calm down his racing heart, and tells himself everything will be okay. He’s so used to overthinking things, waiting for everything to go wrong, that he’s started looking for trouble where there is none.

The bell above the café door chimes as Eddie pushes it open and holds it for Chris, then motions for Buck to go ahead of him. Buck can’t help but slide an arm around his waist, pulling him along; he feels a compulsion to touch Eddie whenever he can, to run a hand along his back, thread their fingers together, brush their shoulders against each other as they walk. 

“Morning, boys,” Bobby calls out, barely visible despite the large cut out window that gives a view into the kitchen.

Chris calls out a greeting and heads straight to the only empty booth, ignoring the dirty dishes still covering the table top. Eddie shakes his head, hooking a finger into the neck of Chris’ shirt and holds him back. “Wait until it’s cleaned, kid,” he says, directing Chris towards the small wooden bench that sits against the wall next to the hostess stand. 

“Let me sit on your lap,” Chris demands. “Then you and Buck can both sit.”

“Bossy today,” Eddie mutters to Buck, and frowns when Buck doesn’t respond. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I’m good,” Buck assures him, ignoring the twinge in his gut. He _will_ be good, as soon as Eddie responds positively to the surprise, he just needs to do a better job of faking it until then. He settles down on the bench next to Eddie, sitting close enough that their arms press together. Eddie’s hand comes to rest on his thigh after Chris climbs on his lap and Buck covers it with his own, pushing Eddie’s fingers apart and sliding his own between them. 

It only takes a few minutes for their table to be cleared and cleaned, but Eddie makes Chris wait until May comes out of the back and leads them to it, handing over menus that Buck knows won’t be opened. 

“Hot chocolate, extra whipped cream,” Chris says after he’s in his seat, and Eddie nudges him. “I mean, hi, May. Can I please have hot chocolate with extra whipped cream?” May looks at Eddie, who nods, before taking the rest of their order; by the time she’s back with the hot chocolate and two cups of coffee, Chris is bouncing in his seat. 

“I’m regretting letting you order those chocolate chip pancakes,” Eddie says, eyeing his son with a grimace. “I have a feeling this sugar crash is not going to be fun.”

“I’m not sugary, I’m excited,” Chris says, grinning. “Buck and I have something to tell you!”

Buck busies himself with shuffling through the sugar packets, picking out three and ripping them open. “Yeah, um,” he says, pouring the sugar into his cup and clattering his spoon around noisily while he stirs, “remember how you told me you’ve never been skiing?” He glances across the table at Chris, who’s still bouncing happily, but can’t make himself look at Eddie. “Uh, I know we have a few good beginner’s trails here on the mountain but I booked us a cabin at a resort a few hours away, and it’s really good for beginners.”

Eddie’s foot knocks against his under the table and Buck looks up at him. “That’s really thoughtful,” he says, smiling softly at Buck and lifting his arm to rest on Chris’ shoulders. “Are you giving Chris and I private lessons?”

Buck grimaces, but before he can say anything, Chris says, “I’m not going! Buck said I could stay with Harry instead. I think Denny’s going to come over, too!”

There’s a silence, and when Buck meets Eddie’s gaze, his stomach sinks. Eddie looks uncomfortable, jaw set and tension around his eyes, looking away as soon as their eyes meet and glancing around the café. “Eddie,” he starts quietly, flexing his fingers against his thighs, “I’m sorry if I overstepped, uh, I—”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, cutting him off, and Buck frowns. “Chris has been asking to spend the night with Harry and Denny anyway, so—it’s not that big of a deal.”

Eddie’s still not really looking at him, but with Chris looking in between the two of them like he’s not sure what’s going on, Buck is reluctant to push the issue so he just says, “if you’re sure,” and when Eddie nods once, he falls silent, reaching for his coffee mug just to have something to do. The silence stretches out and, unsure of what to say to Eddie, he turns his attention towards Chris. “Did I ever tell you about how I fell into a pond the first time I went skiing? I think I was four or five and my instructor told me not to go past the tree line, but I saw a fox so I followed him.”

He regales Chris with stories about his childhood ski trips, carefully edited to make it sound like he wasn’t in the care of parents who allowed him to accidentally take the ski lift up alone to a black diamond run when he was Christopher’s age. He keeps an eye on Eddie throughout, watches how his shoulders relax slowly; by the time their food arrives, he’s slouched slightly in his seat, arm still around Chris, but chuckling as Buck segues into a story about how he got his scarf caught under his inner tube while going down a run and had ended up having to fling himself out of it and walk halfway down the mountain to avoid being strangled.

By the time they’re mostly finished eating and Eddie is merely picking at the remainder of his breakfast, the same southwestern omelet he orders every time, Buck has managed to bury his anxiety enough that when they leave the café, he reaches for Eddie, and they walk hand in hand on the way home. Chris chatters happily ahead of them, leading them straight into the neighborhood market and piling a basket with junk food that Buck has to fight to pay for. 

There’s a flurry of activity once they get back home; Chris had already packed for himself, but argues over Eddie needing to check his bag, pointing out that he’ll only be next door and Bobby and Athena have a key to the house, and only gives in when Eddie threatens to keep the snacks at home. Buck gives Eddie his own bag to toss into the truck on the way to drop Chris, and keeps Eddie’s behind to double check he has everything he needs, stuffing an extra set of base layers and socks in—it’s been awhile since he’s gone skiing, but he remembers the uncomfortable feeling of having to stuff damp ski socks back into dry boots for the drive back home. He leaves it and the cooler stuffed with more food than they’ll possibly eat on the porch, then gets the house ready. It’s just overnight, but a cold snap in Vermont can do a lot of damage to the pipes in older houses, and considering Buck just finished fixing the place up, the last thing he wants to do is clean up the mess left by pipes bursting. 

Eddie finds him in Chris’ bathroom, carefully adjusting the tap open so that the water could drip, and Buck’s a little surprised when he pulls him close and kisses him, backing him into the door. He wraps his arms around Eddie and leans back, rolling his head to the side when Eddie starts kissing his neck, the day old stubble scraping against his sensitive skin and making him shiver. 

“Keep doing that and we’re never going to get out of here,” Buck says, pushing Eddie back by the hips.

“An empty house doesn’t sound so bad,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow at him, his arms flexing around Buck as he’s nudged backwards.

“Not gonna be empty if Chris sees we never left,” Buck laughs. Eddie leans in to kiss him again and he pulls his head back. “But if you really don’t want to go, we can stay here, I don’t mind.” This might be Eddie’s way of getting out of it, he thinks, of finding a reason to go back and bring Chris home, to not be stuck out with Buck on an overnight trip he didn’t really sign up for.

Eddie stops and looks up at him for a long moment, and just as Buck is about to make some excuse to stay—a forgotten doctor’s appointment, an emergency text from Chim asking him to work, anything to get this uncomfortable feeling to disappear—Eddie drops his arms and takes his hand. “I might be a little nervous about skiing,” he says, giving Buck the smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. “You already know I can’t cook or repair anything to save my life, falling down a mountain might be the breaking point.”

Buck laughs, some of the pressure in his chest easing. If that’s all Eddie’s apprehensive about, if he’s just nervous about being competent at something, Buck can work with that; he didn’t spend three winters as a ski instructor in college for nothing. “I promise not to break up with you if you fall down the mountain,” he teases, pulling Eddie in for a kiss, “but I reserve the right to laugh.”

“Bears really had the right idea about hibernating so they could sleep through this bullshit,” Eddie sighs, and Buck laughs, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him back against his chest. “Are you sure my coat isn’t good enough?”

“I love you too much to let you freeze to death,” Buck says, pressing a kiss to the back of his head before letting him go. “The forecast for tomorrow is below freezing, babe, the last thing you want is snow getting into your jacket when you fall.”

Eddie shrugs. “I just won’t fall, then,” he says, reaching out and fussing with the zipper on the jacket in front of him.

“Oh, you’ll definitely fall,” Buck says. “Several times. But everyone does, no one is even going to look, let alone care.” He pushes the jacket to the side and reaches for another one, the bright orange catching his eye. “What about this?”

“That color is offensive, Buck,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t need people being able to see me wherever I am.”

“You do if you need them to find you,” Buck says. “Black, dark blue—you don’t want to blend into the trees if you’re hurt, or get lost. If you don’t want a single color, we can look for something with bright accents, but—” he hesitates, not wanting to say the wrong thing or insinuate Eddie can’t handle himself; he knows he can be sensitive when it comes to people thinking he’s not capable, but Eddie prompts him with a curious noise and he sighs. “I just want to make sure that if something happens, I’ve done everything I can to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Eddie turns his head to look at him, meeting his gaze with a look of doubt that Buck isn’t expecting. “I swear, if you make me buy some ugly jacket and you have a black one—”

“It’s pink,” Buck says, grinning. “Don’t look at me like that, it was on sale! Maddie always said I look good in pink, I guess I’ll have to get your opinion, too.”

“You look good in everything,” Eddie says, shaking his head softly. “Okay, what about this one?” He reaches for a bright blue jacket, tugging it off the hanger and turning it over in his hands. “Not sure how comfortable I’ll be in orange, but I could handle this.”

Buck takes it from him and helps him into it; it brings a beautiful flush to Eddie’s cheeks, a pleased pink glow. He’s aware that Eddie doesn’t need his help (aside from cooking and home repair, the two areas where Eddie doesn’t quite know how to excel, even though Buck is pretty sure he could learn if given the opportunity), but he likes taking every opportunity to get his hands on him. “Looks good,” he says, tugging the zipper all the way up and checking the tightness of the sleeves. 

Finding pants doesn’t go so easily, though; Eddie resists the type with suspenders despite Buck insisting they’re superior and they spend several minutes arguing over whether or not a brightly colored jacket is enough or if he needs colorful pants as well, and by the time they’re at the register, they’re both a little frustrated, especially after Eddie takes out his wallet and insists on paying.

“They’re my clothes, Buck,” he says, nudging him away with his hip. “You’re not paying for them. We’ve already talked about this.”

“That deal was groceries,” Buck protests, “and I still think I should be paying for part of them, I eat over at your house all the time.”

“You—” Eddie stops and looks at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Buck looks at him, brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t be paying for all my meals?” he tries, unsure what Eddie’s so confused about. “Eddie, this whole thing was my idea, you shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“You’re not buying my clothes,” Eddie says, swiping his card and thanking the cashier before turning back to look at him. The confusion on his face has been replaced with frustration, and just like that, Buck’s back to feeling the unsettling hum of anxiety running through his body. “And you should let me pay for the cabin,” he adds, leading the way out of the store and holding the door open for Buck.

“Eddie,” he protests, “that’s—no. I wanted to surprise you, you’re not paying for it.” 

“At least half,” Eddie says. 

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to let go of the annoyance he feels. Eddie’s trying to be nice, he knows that, and he definitely has more money than Buck does (especially since he quit bartending on the weekends in order to spend more time with Eddie), but Buck isn’t bad with money by any means, and he doesn’t have a lot to spend it on. Chim pays him well and all the side jobs he picks up provide him with enough to pad his (admittedly meager) savings account, and his rent isn’t all that much. Sure, he’s spending a little more on gas now that he’s driving eighty miles a day, and he’s probably going to have to get a new car soon—his two-door Honda got him across the country, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going make it much longer—but he certainly has enough money to pay for a ski trip he asked Eddie to go on.

It just—it might hurt his pride, that Eddie won’t just accept him doing this.

He closes the door to the truck with a little more force than normal, which he knows will irritate Eddie, and he feels bad for a moment until Eddie flips the radio to a country station, despite knowing that Buck cannot _stand_ country music.

He thinks. He’s pretty sure he’s told Eddie that before; they’re not actually in the car together that often, most of their weekends are spent at Eddie’s, and the main street is within walking distance. He reaches over and pushes the buttons until he finds an 80’s rock station, and the second he leans back in his seat, Eddie changes it back.

“Eddie,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “come on, man, country?”

“My truck, my rules,” Eddie says, not looking at him as he pulls out of their parking space and navigates back towards the interstate. “Nothing wrong with country music, Buck. If you ever make it to Texas, you’re going to hear a lot of it.”

He opens his mouth to disagree, but Eddie’s words sink in and he presses his lips back together, swallowing against the ache in his chest, the unease in his stomach. _If_ he ever makes it to Texas? He knows Eddie is trying to keep some distance between himself and his parents, but he also knows Sophia still lives in El Paso, and Eddie had talked to Chris about going back for the twins’ birthday, and maybe he doesn’t have a right to feel hurt that Eddie doesn’t want him there, but he does. Buck doesn’t have anyone to introduce Eddie to; his parents don’t care—he’d sent his address to them with every move until he landed in Chicago and had never once heard back—he’s spent years trying to find Maddie with no avail, and he never really had friends before he moved to Burlington. Outside of the family he has now, there’s no one to care for Buck.

But Eddie—parents aside, Eddie talks about his abuela with a reverence that Buck has never heard applied to family members, tells stories about his sisters that make him stare off into the distance, lost in memory, until he’s pulled back out. Eddie has people he loves, people who love him, and he can’t help but think that Eddie wants to keep him separate from all of that.

_That’s not something you could mess up,_ Eddie had said when Buck had admitted he worried about doing something to ruin this relationship that they were building. And—he tries to believe Eddie, he mostly does, but there are still times that doubt creeps in, because Buck had spent four years learning destructive behaviors and the last year and a half hasn’t been enough to erase all the traces of that. His fear has shifted over the last few months from never finding love to having it all ripped out from under his feet, and he can’t shake that as much as he tries. He worries sometimes that he’s too clingy, knows he’s too needy; he’s always needed other people more than they need him, always loved more than they were able or willing to give. 

Eddie was the first person he thought might love him just as much, might need him in the same way. But Eddie’s always had Buck in smaller doses, their time together buffered by Chris and broken up by Buck’s schedule, and he can’t help but wonder if the prospect of a straight twenty four hours together, on top of Buck’s presumptuous planning, is a little too much for Eddie to handle. 

He wonders if he should say something, if he should apologize again, but Eddie had dropped the issue so quickly back at Bobby’s that Buck’s still unsure what he’s really upset about, and he doesn’t want things to get worse than they already are, so he just sinks into his seat and stares out the window at the falling snow. 

There’s an angry silence in the truck as they pull up to the cabin, and Buck is pretty sure, now, that this is the worst idea he’s ever had. The two hour drive had turned into a six hour misadventure thanks to a closed highway, Eddie missing the turn for the detour because the softly falling snow had turned into a legitimate blizzard by the time they hit New Hampshire, the hour long ordeal to put chains on the tires when the road got too icy to safely go on without them—the universe had apparently taken one look at Buck this morning and decided that he had no right to be so happy with Eddie, and it was time to set him straight. 

His hands still feel frozen from struggling with the tire chains and he rubs them briskly on his thighs, hops out of the truck as soon as Eddie pulls to a stop in front of their darkened cabin and grabs the bags from the back, slinging both over his shoulder and hurrying to get inside. It takes him three tries to get the door code entered correctly, Eddie shivering visibly behind him when he finally swings the door open. 

The inside of the cabin is hardly warmer; despite his own irritation at being able to see his breath once safely out of the snow, the sound of Eddie’s groan sets him on edge. He looks around for a thermostat and cranks it on, but even though the cabin is small, it’s still going to take time to heat, and Buck is tired, hungry, and _cold_. He drops their bags by the bed, sits on the edge, and props his elbows on his knees with a sigh. This whole trip has been a mistake and he wishes he’d never come up with the idea. 

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” Eddie says. He’s standing in the middle of the room, cooler at his feet, arms crossed over his body. “I should’ve vetoed any state where it snowed when I asked Chris where we should move.”

Buck knows it has nothing to do with him, that Eddie’s not even _considering_ the implications of not moving to Vermont, but he’s already so hurt by everything else that it feels like another wound, another step towards that fallout he’s kept in the back of his mind since he walked into Eddie’s house, another moment that makes the voice in his head remind him that no one stays, no one wants _him_ to stay. 

All this—everything he has, everything he loves, everything he’s been trying to hold onto for dear life, afraid of when it would inevitably slip through his fingers—might disappear all because he pushed too fast, again. 

“Well, you kind of need snow to ski,” Buck says, voice muffled by his hands; he’s a little grateful for it, hoping that Eddie doesn’t hear the way it shakes before he can calm himself down. 

“I didn’t ask to ski,” Eddie says. “You decided that for me.”

“I was trying to do something nice,” he says, and even _he_ hears the hurt in his voice at that. “You could have said no, I told you—“

“I know,” Eddie says. He sighs, and he sounds so tired of it all that Buck raises his head and looks at him, watches the way Eddie closes his eyes and takes a breath before saying, “look, I think we’re both not in the best mood, maybe we should take a break before this gets out of control.”

There are a dozen different meanings to _take a break_. Buck knows that. He knows that like he knows Eddie didn’t mean anything when he said he should’ve vetoed Vermont because of the snow. He knows that logically, Eddie is probably right, that they _should_ take a break and figure out what they’re going to say to each other, how to navigate this, but he also just wants to get this over with and see what’s left when the dust settles. 

“You know you could have said no, but what, you just wanted to be upset with me instead?” he asks, pushing off the bed and standing to face Eddie. “Thought you might as well just suffer through it?”

“No,” Eddie says, dropping his arms to his sides. “Buck, lets just—”

“You could have just _told_ me,” Buck continues, “instead of pretending everything was fine, you could have just said ‘hey, Buck, I’d actually rather not be alone with you, let’s just stay home with Chris instead’—”

“I don’t know where you got that idea—”

“You seemed happy about this before you knew Chris wasn’t coming,” Buck says, taking a step towards Eddie. “And you kept saying that you weren’t upset that he wasn’t so the only thing I can come up with is that the problem is me.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, his voice tight. “Fine, Buck, yeah, I wish you wouldn’t have made a decision about Chris without talking to me first, and I felt backed into a corner when he said he was going to stay with Harry. I don’t like anyone making decisions about my kid—”

“Then why’d you keep saying it was okay?” Buck asks, cutting him off, because he _knows_ all this. “Eddie, I’m sorry, I—I knew you wouldn’t like it, you talked about it in your book enough—”

“Jesus Christ, I wish you’d never read that damn book,” Eddie snaps, crossing his arms back over his chest and taking a step backwards. “If you knew so well, why the hell did you go and do it anyway?”

The ache blooms in his chest immediately, pressing on his heart and lungs; he draws in a breath through his nose, drops his eyes to the ground and clenches his teeth. The cabin that had looked so cozy and intimate when he’d booked it is now cramped and devoid of any warmth; he needs to leave, wants nothing more than to walk away from this and deal with his emotions by himself, but with the storm that’s raging outside, leaving is a death wish.

He hears Eddie sigh, hears him start to move, but Buck is frozen to the spot. Eddie’s book had changed his life—he has no doubt that without it, he’d still be miserable, bouncing from place to place, driving people away with how damn _needy_ he was, desperate for someone to love him like he could love them—and Eddie wished he’d never read it, wished he’d never had to share that side of him with Buck, the vulnerable part that Buck loved so much.

“Well I’m sorry that you wish I’d never picked up the book that changed my life,” he says dully. There’s nowhere to _go_ , he has no way to get out of this situation. “I can take the couch tonight if you want—”

“Buck, stop.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t understand—”

“I know,” Eddie says, stepping into his space. He’s close enough to touch, but he doesn’t reach out, doesn’t pull Buck into his arms like he would have just the day before. Eddie’s always touching him, but now he’s half a foot away, and he feels unreachable. “You’re right, I don’t understand, and before I say anything else I end up regretting, I need to take a few minutes to think about this. I’m gonna get a fire going and then—then we’ll talk.”

Buck lifts his eyes to watch Eddie turn away, meeting his gaze when Eddie turns back and looks at him. 

“Buck,” he says quietly, “that’s not what you need, is it?”

“I—” he stops. He’s not sure what Eddie means—what he needs is to somehow rewind the last two weeks and not give Chris an option to stay home, to not forget that his place was a guest in Eddie’s home and nothing more. 

“I need to walk away when I get mad,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think that’s what you want, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Buck hasn’t had many arguments with significant others in his life; he’d agreed with almost everything Ali had wanted out of fear that a disagreement would mean an end to their relationship, and Adrian had been his first love—they’d been so young, nothing had mattered enough to argue about, and anything that did was quickly resolved with sex. He doesn’t know what he needs, other than for Eddie to reassure him that everything will be okay, which is nothing that he can promise. But he _longs_ for Eddie to reach out and hold him, to tell him it will be okay with the way he touches him even if he can’t say it with words, he wants to feel Eddie’s body against his, wants to feel his heartbeat and steady breathing in his ear. But asking for a hug feels—childish, almost, so he reaches a hand out to Eddie and is relieved when Eddie steps forward immediately, sliding his arms around Buck’s waist. 

“I love you,” Buck whispers, hoping Eddie still knows that, that no matter what’s happened, Buck’s love for him is an immutable truth. 

“I told you this is it for me,” Eddie says quietly in his ear. “I meant that.”

Eddie’s lips press against his cheek as he pulls away, hands squeezing Buck’s waist before he steps out of reach and turns towards the firewood stacked against the fireplace. Buck looks around—he can’t stand there with nothing to do, it gives him too much time to think about all the ways this could still turn out badly for him. His eyes fall on the cooler; they haven’t eaten since breakfast, nearly nine hours ago. He’d intended to make lasagne, had it made in the pan already, but it’s not a quick meal and he thinks it might be better to eat before they have this conversation. 

By the time the fire is going, he’s got grilled cheese and tomato soup ready at the table for them. They don’t talk while eating, but Eddie does stretch out his foot until it bumps against Buck’s under the table, and when they’re done, they clean up side by side.

It would feel so ordinary, if Buck’s heart wasn’t working double-time.

Eddie is changing when Buck finishes putting the last of the food into the refrigerator, pulling on the flannel pajama pants Buck had bought him when the weather started to turn colder, so he follows Eddie’s lead and takes his own out, offering his old Penn sweatshirt to Eddie when he rubs his hands against his arms despite his long sleeves.

“Come here,” Eddie says, leading him over to the couch situated in front of the fireplace and sitting down, giving Buck a scrutinizing look before pulling him down, arranging their bodies so they sit slightly angled towards each other, but still close. “You want to start?” he asks, reaching for Buck’s hand.

“I’m sorry for making decisions about Chris,” he says quickly. “I know that’s not my place, and I swear, Eddie, I won’t do it again.”

Eddie’s brow furrows but he nods, head turning to face the roaring fire for a moment before looking back. “I don’t mind most of the decisions you make for Chris,” he says slowly, “but—I think if he has to go with someone else, either for the night or just for a few hours, I’d like it if you talked to me first. Chris is a good kid, and I know Bobby and Athena can take care of him but he’s never stayed with anyone who isn’t family. I think I’m a little nervous about it, even though I know he probably isn’t.”

Buck nods, licks his bottom lip and sucks it in between his teeth. “I didn’t know that,” he says. “Chris said he’d had sleepovers before, but I didn’t realize they were all with family. I won’t do it again.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment and Buck almost feels like he can’t breath under the weight of his gaze. “You’re hearing that I don’t care about decisions like going out to dinner, or him going over to play with the other boys, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, despite having no intention of making any of those decisions, either, because the possibility of Eddie being upset with him just isn’t worth it. And as eager as he is for this conversation to be over, there’s still something he doesn’t understand. “Eds? Why didn’t you just tell me this morning? You said you felt like you couldn’t say anything around Chris, but you could have told me after you dropped him off.”

Eddie squints at him before nodding; when he takes a visible breath in, Buck’s heart drops. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he starts, and Buck has to stop himself from fidgeting, from pulling away, because he can’t think of a single good conversation that starts this way, “and something you said at breakfast reminded me, and then you brought up the book—” he stop and squeezes Buck’s hand, which gives Buck absolutely no reassurance. “I’ve been feeling like we’re on uneven footing,” he says.

Buck frowns; he agrees, they are, because Eddie means everything to him, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s what he means. 

“I don’t think there’s anything you don’t know about me,” Eddie continues. “You know all the things I never told anyone, everything I was scared to admit to—there’s nothing hidden, Buck, I don’t have any secrets from you.”

“I know,” Buck says quietly, “Eddie, I know, and I—I know that it wasn’t an easy decision, to tell me you wrote it, to admit that was you, and I don’t carry that weight lightly, you know? I—you can’t imagine how it makes me feel that you trust me like that.”

Eddie’s looking down at their joined hands, his thumb rubbing against Buck’s. “No, I can’t,” he says, looking up and meeting his eyes, “because you don’t trust me enough to do the same.”

He thinks he stops breathing for a moment. Eddie’s face is impassive, and he realizes that this is what he needed to think about earlier, that _this_ has been an issue for him since long before Buck ever made these plans, and he has no idea how to respond. “Eddie, I trust you with _everything_ ,” he says, even though he knows it’s not true and apparently, Eddie does as well.

“I listened to you talk about your childhood this morning and not once did you mention your parents,” Eddie says. “You’ve never talked about them, actually, and I never pushed, because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready, but—when you talk about your life, it’s like it didn’t start until you moved to Vermont. I don’t know anything about you, Buck, and I guess after this morning I just started to really think about what that meant, and I didn’t like the conclusion I kept coming to.”

“Eddie,” he says, squeezing his hand—Eddie sounds calm, and doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere, but Buck’s heart is pounding erratically again, and he doesn’t know if he can keep it together if Eddie decides that whatever Buck has to say isn’t enough. “My life—it didn’t matter before I moved here. I mean, I told you—” he falters, because he really hasn’t told Eddie much at all. He’d kept his sexual history to the bare minimum, told him that it was all meaningless, and had kept the rest to himself. “I don’t like the person I was,” he says quietly. “There’s so much—I’m not proud of it. I don’t want to think about how you’ll look at me after you know.”

Eddie brings his other hand up and cups Buck’s cheek, shifting until they’re sitting closer, tilts his head in and rests their foreheads together. “Buck,” he says, “you can’t—I don’t think there’s a single thing that would make me look at you any differently. You’re a good person. We’ve all done shit we’re not proud of, but whatever it is, you’re not doing it now and that’s what counts.”

“You can’t promise that,” Buck says.

Eddie pulls away and sighs. “I’ve killed people,” he says, looking like he’d rather be doing anything than meeting Buck’s gaze. “You didn’t treat me any different when you found out.”

“Eddie,” he says, shaking his head, “you were in the military and ambushed, you did what you had to do.”

“And you sleep next to me every night knowing how it affects me,” Eddie says, “knowing that I had nightmares when I got home and would wake up in different places, not knowing how I got there, knowing I was afraid I’d end up hurting Chris or myself. You don’t look at me any different for it, Buck, and I swear, whatever you have to tell me isn’t going to change how I feel about you. Sweetheart—” Buck tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand and the corner of Eddie’s mouth lifts into a little smile, “—you don’t need to tell me until you’re ready. I just need to know that you _are_ going to tell me.”

He wonders how long Eddie will wait, how long he’ll be able to live with this inequality between them until he breaks; he wonders if Eddie will believe him at all if he says yes. “My parents never really cared for me,” he says instead, turning his head to watch the flames in the fireplace throw shadows into the room. “I don’t—they never said it to me, but I overheard my Mom say once that she didn’t realize she was pregnant until it was too late—”

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, and the hurt in his voice is what finally allows Buck to release the tension he’s been holding. 

“But they didn’t—they kept me fed and everything, Eddie, I always had what I needed, they just didn’t really love me.” He keeps his eyes on the fire, listens to Eddie’s measured breathing for a moment before saying, “they disowned me in college, when they found out I was dating Adrian. They’d never said anything negative about gay people, you know? My dad even donated to an LGBT youth center in town when it opened, but I never told them I was bi because … I guess I knew it would be different for them, when it was their son.” 

Eddie pulls him in without a word, tugging at him until Buck stretches his legs out on the couch and lets his head rest against Eddie’s chest, arm curling around Eddie’s waist as Eddie strokes a hand through his hair. Buck feels his mouth everywhere, pressing kisses into his hair, his forehead; they stay wrapped up in each other until the fire dies down, only moving to climb into bed and press just as close, whispering love into the night. 

Eddie’s on top of him when he wakes up, holding up his weight on his forearms, biting at the curve of Buck’s shoulder. He’s beautiful in the soft morning light that filters through the cabin windows, and Buck slides an arm around his waist before rolling them over and pressing Eddie down into the mattress, dipping his head down and kissing Eddie’s neck. “You can wake me up like that anytime,” he says, voice scratchy from sleep, rolling his hips when Eddie runs his hands up his sides. 

“I’ll remember that,” Eddie says, words punctuated by kisses pressed to Buck’s hair, “but I had something else in mind, if you’re okay with it.”

He lifts his head up and looks at Eddie, memorizes the flush on his cheeks and fullness of his lips, the way his leg is hitched up and resting on the back of Buck’s thighs. “I’m okay with it,” he says, moving a hand to rest against Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing his bottom lip.

“You don’t know what it is,” Eddie says. His eyes crinkle at the corners, lips tilting into a smile, and Buck feels his heart expand in his chest, feels so _lucky_ that Eddie is his, that he has someone who loves him like this even after things are difficult. 

“Surprise me,” Buck tells him, because anything Eddie wants to do, he’s pretty sure he’s already done—not to mention that he doesn’t think he’d _ever_ say no to Eddie. 

Eddie flips them back around and disappears under the covers; Buck’s breath catches in his throat and he closes his eyes and waits, expecting Eddie’s mouth on his chest, or his stomach. Instead, Eddie’s hands land on his thighs and drag down, coming to rest just below his knees, and Buck feels a kiss being pressed onto his ankle as Eddie’s thumbs rub circles into his skin. 

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, feeling Eddie everywhere; there’s no inch of skin that Eddie doesn’t touch in some way, doesn’t press his fingers into, brush his lips against. Eddie sucks bruises into his inner thighs, leaves bite marks on his hip bones, scratches nails into his lower back. He hears him, sometimes, whispers of words he’s not sure he’s supposed to know, Eddie promising him love and adoration as he takes his time, focuses all his attention on Buck. 

Buck has always gone slow with Eddie, always tries to make him feel worshipped, wants him to know how seriously he takes his pleasure, tries to show Eddie how much he _appreciates_ everything he gives him, all the trust Eddie puts in his hands. He could spend hours kissing him, touching him, could spend whole days focused on making Eddie feel as good as possible.

He’s never felt that given back to him before now.

His arousal is almost an afterthought to the way his heart swells in his chest by the time Eddie’s lips are on his, his hands cupping his face gently, thumbs brushing across Buck’s cheeks, following the tracks his tears left. “Buck,” he whispers, frowning, and Buck shakes his head. 

“I’m good,” he assures, bringing shaking hands up and digging them into Eddie’s hair, and when Eddie whispers that they can stop, he pulls him in for a kiss and whispers “please don’t,” against his lips. Eddie gives him an assessing look, kisses him again, and flips him over and starts again. 

By the time he’s sucking marks into the curve of Buck’s neck and pushing slick fingers into him, Buck isn’t trying to hide how his shoulders shake with tears, how his hips push into the mattress relentlessly, so hard he aches. “More,” he rasps, groping for Eddie’s free hand, sliding their fingers together and bringing them up above his head to rest on the mattress. He pushes back against Eddie’s fingers, trying to get him deeper. “ _Please_ , Eddie.”

He doesn’t know how much time goes by; it feels like forever, an eternity with Eddie’s tongue dragging over his skin, his fingers driving him crazy, thrusting into him until Buck is shaking, getting him to the edge repeatedly before pulling back. By the time Eddie rolls them onto their sides and pushes into him, he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from sobbing. Eddie whispers his name, hand clenched around Buck’s hip as he fucks into him; Buck reaches back and gets his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer.

Eddie curses in his ear, a breathy moan. “Buck,” he says, and Buck jerks when Eddie takes him in hand and starts stroking, “you’re—you’re _beautiful_ , fuck, you feel so good.” 

His breath across Buck’s sweat soaked skin sends a shiver down his spine, and Buck comes with a gasp, shaking through his orgasm and Eddie’s rhythm falters as he strokes Buck through it. “Don’t stop,” Buck chokes out, and it’s all the encouragement Eddie needs, his arm wrapping around Buck’s waist as he thrusts into him until he groans, and Buck can feel him shake as he comes, head dropping onto Buck’s shoulder. 

They breathe in sync as they come down, Eddie’s hand pressing flat against his heart. “Buck,” Eddie says quietly, “are you okay?”

“Really good,” he says, covering Eddie’s hand with his own. “Eddie—” he hesitates, unsure of what to say; he doesn’t want Eddie to think there’s any comparison, that he was thinking of anything _but_ him. 

In the end, he doesn’t say anything at all, just allows Eddie to pull him along into the shower, and kisses him breathless as the water runs cold. 

“Get off—Eddie! Stop!” Buck laughs as Eddie flails his arms back, pitches forwards and pulls him down into the snow with a hand clamped to Buck’s wrist. 

“Are you sure snowboarding isn’t easier?” Eddie asks, flopping backwards onto the snow. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“Not lying,” Buck says, getting up and brushing the snow off his pants. “And if you keep dragging me down with you, I’m gonna start leaving more distance between us.” He reaches down and pulls Eddie up, pressing kiss to his red nose. “Got it, Rudolph?”

“Ha, ha,” Eddie says, poking him in the chest. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not doing bad, you know,” Buck says, switching his poles to one hand so he can reach over and adjust Eddie’s hat to cover his ears. “I fell a lot more when I was learning.”

Eddie looks over at him. “Didn’t you say you were four?”

“Something like that,” Buck says, grinning. “But I still fell a lot.” He nudges Eddie with his elbow before adjusting his poles and nodding down the run with his chin. “Okay, you did a great job with going side to side to keep your speed low, but you’re getting tripped up because you’re not moving fast enough. You gotta trust yourself, Eds, you’re pretty good at this until you start second guessing yourself. So if you trust me, we’re gonna try something new. I was thinking you might have an easier time following me instead of the other way around.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, we can try that,” he says. “I trust you.”

Buck keeps it slow, at first, crisscrossing the run at angles tight enough to keep Eddie’s speed down, gradually increasing the distance as they get closer to the bottom and Eddie goes longer without falling. They do the hill again and again, pushing up their goggles and making out in the chair lift, until Eddie makes it the whole way without falling and tackles Buck to the ground at the end. 

“You ready for a challenge?” Buck asks, sitting back up and pulling Eddie with him. 

Eddie nods. “Can you teach me to ski backwards?”

“Let’s wait until you can go forwards a whole day first,” Buck teases, laughing at the look of outrage Eddie gives him. “There’s a run from the summit that’s blue the whole way, I thought we could go up there and stop at the restaurant that’s halfway up for lunch.”

“I’ll race you,” Eddie says, pushing himself up. 

“I could get down the mountain three times before you managed to make it halfway,” Buck says, rolling his eyes, “but sure Eddie, let’s race.”

“I meant to the lift,” Eddie calls, already pushing forward through the snow; Buck curses; by the time he stands up and scoops his poles off the ground, Eddie’s just a few feet from the start of the line. He grins up at Buck when he meets him at the entrance, and Buck glares back in mock-annoyance.

It’s a nice break; the lifts at this resort are slow, especially the older one that takes them to the summit; Buck sits with his gloved hand on Eddie’s thigh and tells him more about skiing as a kid and how he worked at a resort just outside Philadelphia when he was in college, spending the winters teaching both kids and adults how to ski. By the time the lift slows at the top, Eddie’s laughing so hard at his story about the middle-aged woman who, too nervous about falling, slid down the bunny hill on her butt the entire way before immediately quitting for the day that he trips as soon as his skis hit the ground.

“You did that on purpose,” he says, and Buck laughs as he pulls him off the ground and out of the way. 

Snow is starting to fall as they head down the run; Eddie’s more confident and Buck relaxes a little, switches off between leading them down around the turns and letting Eddie pull ahead, watching to check his form or shout encouragement. He hasn’t been skiing in years and his body is starting to feel it as they ski up to the lodge that’s nestled into the hillside. He reaches down and pops the buckles on his boots open as soon as they sit down, prying them off his feet and letting them fall to the floor with a thump. Across from him, Eddie does the same, and Buck uses his legs to hook under Eddie’s feet and pull them until Eddie figures it out and stretches until his feet are resting in Buck’s lap.

“This feels indecent,” Eddie says with a soft groan, tipping his head back as Buck digs his fingers into Eddie’s ankles. “I thought I was in better shape than this.”

“You’re in great shape, Eds,” he laughs, shaking his head, continuing to work his fingers into Eddie’s legs. “This is a different type of workout. We can get season passes back at home, it’s a lot easier once you build your stamina up. I don’t know if they have the equipment Chris needs, though, I’d have to check. But we can definitely do it again, if you want.”

“How about tomorrow?” Eddie asks, bending the corner of his menu back and forth as he reads through it. “I called texted Bobby this morning and asked if they’d keep Chris an extra night, and extended our stay in the cabin. I hope you don’t mind.”

He has a suspicion that Eddie had also switched the payment card to his own, but he’s not interested in starting an argument, doesn’t want to say anything that could put a damper on the happiness he’d felt at Eddie’s words. “Another day sounds perfect,” he says, and almost adds that another night alone does, too, but depending how hard they push themselves through the afternoon, he’s not sure Eddie will be up for anything after leaving the mountain. 

They order and look over the trail map until their food arrives, planning other trails to take; there are green and black trails that run parallel to each other on the west summit, and after Eddie spends several minutes insisting he’ll be fine on his own, they decide to take the lift back up and traverse over; a journey that ends up taking almost 45 minutes over flat ground with the wind whipping snow up around them. 

By the time they’re standing at the junction of the runs, Buck’s having second thoughts. “I think we should just go down together,” he says, biting on his bottom lip. The visibility is dropping pretty quickly, and he knows Eddie is capable, but—

“I’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “Second turn-off?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, “but—”

“Let’s just get down,” Eddie says. “I’ll meet you at the bottom and maybe we can go back to the cabin and rest, come back later tonight if the snow lets up.”

Buck nods, motions for Eddie to go ahead of him and watches to make sure he follows the right path before skidding to a stop and trying to flex his feet inside his boots; he shouldn’t have taken them off in the restaurant, they feel too tight now, but he can deal with it once he’s at the bottom. He pushes off again and takes a deep breath in, feels the wind rush past him as he picks up speed, cutting through the powder so it whips up and surrounds him. He loves skiing, loves the slightly out-of-control feeling it gives him, the breathlessness of the adrenaline running through him. He’s spent so long away from the colder parts of the country that he’s forgotten how to hold his body through the ungroomed trails, which is what he blames when the edge of his ski catches a groove the wrong way and he rocks back, overcorrects himself, and goes face first into the snow.

It’s almost too bad Eddie hadn’t seen it, he thinks. His leg is caught awkwardly behind him and it takes a few tries for him to jam his ski pole into the rear binding and pop the ski off, then twist and do the same to the other. He pushes himself up to sitting and breathes deep, pushing out the flare of panic he’d felt when he’d started to fall, and, because he’s already sitting, reaches down to adjust his boots, loosening them up and giving his feet some extra room. 

The mountain is pretty empty; he’d chosen for them to go on a weekday before school was out on purpose, knowing that learning is easier when you aren’t fighting for room on crowded hills, but years of experience are ingrained into him and he still turns to look up the slope before he takes off again, and his heart stops when he sees Eddie skiing down slowly, bright blue jacket just visible through the falling snow.

“I don’t know what happened,” Eddie says when he makes his way down; Buck can see the tension around his eyes through his goggles. “I followed the path, it curved around and then I saw you.”

He missed a turn, Buck knows, but he nods and lets it go, looking back up the mountain with a sigh and wondering how long it would take to climb up sideways on their skis until they got back to the wide groomed path of the beginner’s run. Too long, probably, and Eddie looks exhausted, even if he would never admit to it. “Eds,” he says, “this is gonna be tiring, but I want you to ski down in a wedge, okay? It’s too narrow for us to go side to side, so I want you to forget everything I told you about skiing straight and just go as slow as you can.”

“Buck,” Eddie starts, looking around, and Buck knows he’s going to panic if he starts overthinking it. Eddie’s always calm, always prides himself on being rational, but rationality tends to fly out the window when you’re on top of a mountain and imagining all the things that can happen on the way down.

“Just remember to fall backwards, okay? Any time you feel out of control, or like you’re going too fast, fall back. It’s the safest thing you can do. We got this,” he says, reaching out and resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m not going to let anything happen, Eddie, it’s just going to take awhile, and you’re probably going to hate me when you see that I can do this whole thing while skiing backwards.”

“You’re an asshole,” Eddie says, but he laughs and nods when Buck asks him if he’s ready.

The first two times he falls, Eddie rolls his eyes, like he thinks Buck is doing it for his benefit, but by the third time, he’s starting to look worried. “I’ll get the hang of it again,” Buck assures him when they pull to a stop under the overhang of a tree, its large boughs bowing under the weight of the snow. “Besides, you’ve fallen about eighty-three times today, I can’t let you win.”

He does, eventually, get the hang of it, remembering how to shift his weight the right way in order to reach out and keep Eddie upright when his legs threaten to collapse, trusting that Eddie will tell him when to turn, if he needs to get out of the way of something. The trail isn’t that bad, all things considering; it’s steep and narrow, and there are a few parts where they have to sit and push themselves over the small drop-offs that are meant to be jumped over, but the trail is thankfully devoid of exposure and any steep cliff-sides.

By the time they reach the bottom of the run, the hillside gradually flattening out in the lead up to the lodge, Buck is shaking with exertion and he doesn’t think Eddie is faring much better, given than he falls three times in the space of twenty feet. “Come on,” he says, switching his poles to one hand and getting close enough to wrap an arm around Eddie’s waist, pushing him forward. “I don’t know if I can make it back to the cabin, I think we should just crash in front of the fire here for a little bit.”

He helps Eddie get his skis off and they limp into the locker room on the main level; Eddie slumps against the lockers once he gets his boots off, head tipped back. Buck looks at him as he sheds his jacket, takes in the groove of the goggles left on Eddie’s skin, the brightness of his cheeks and nose against his pale skin in the harsh glare of the overhead lights, the way his arms rest limply at his sides. He changes his own clothes quickly, knowing that once he sits down he’s not going to want to get up, shoving his ski bib and damp socks into his bag haphazardly before ignoring his protesting muscles and bending down to pull Eddie’s boots off.

“I can get it,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t move.

“So can I,” Buck responds. He replaces each layer as he pulls it off, not wanting to leave Eddie cold in the drafty locker room, trying to be as gentle as he is efficient; by the time he pulls a hoodie over Eddie’s head, his skin doesn’t look so pale and there’s a small smile on his face.

“Is it dramatic to admit I thought I was going to die?” he asks as Buck leads them upstairs and towards the fireplace; there’s an empty couch in front of it and he lets Eddie drop onto it, resting heavily against the side, eyes closed.

“A little,” Buck says, smiling. “I wasn’t going to let you die, Eddie. It wasn’t dangerous, just tiring.”

“Says the person doing it backwards,” Eddie mutters. “Chris is never learning to ski.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees, shaking his head with a smile. “I’m gonna go get us some food. I’d say stay here but I’m not sure your legs are working anymore. But nice to see your arms do,” he adds when Eddie lifts a hand and flips him off with a grin. 

He stretches as he waits in line to order, wincing when his joints crack, shifting side to side to relieve the tension in his body. He gets them sandwiches and hot cocoa, carries them back to where Eddie is sitting, eyes still closed, and nudges the plate into his hands before sitting down next to him. They eat in silence, discarding their empty plates on the table in front of them.

“Why are you all the way over there?” Eddie asks, hands wrapped around his cup of cocoa. Buck looks at him and then to where their thighs are pressed together, and Eddie sighs. “Don’t make me ask,” he mutters, reaching out, and Buck smiles and goes willingly, letting his head come to rest on Eddie’s shoulder and kissing his arm when it settles on Buck’s chest.

Eddie loves him, Buck knows that, and he’s always tactile when they’re alone, but this type of affection outside of their house, their little bubble of space they hold for their friends and family, this is rare, and Buck sinks into it.

“What’d you mean by you eat most of your meals at my house?” Eddie asks after a few minutes, and Buck blinks the haze of drowsiness away and turns his head to look up at him. “When we were getting my jacket,” Eddie clarifies. “You said you eat most of your meals at my house.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Eds.”

Eddie shifts underneath him, drawing his arm tighter around Buck. “You’ve spent every night with me for six weeks,” he says, “I wasn’t even sure you had a place anymore.”

“It’s been a little neglected,” Buck says, because he’s really only stopped by to pick up clothes and books on his was out of Burlington, “if you need some space—”

“I want it to be _our_ place,” Eddie says. “Space is the last thing I need. Move in, Buck. We can grab your stuff this weekend, buy new furniture together if you want, I don’t care. It’s not home without you.”

If Eddie notices the tears that slip down Buck’s cheeks and onto his arm, he doesn’t say anything. “Yeah,” Buck says, nodding, “that sounds perfect, Eddie.”

“And you’re coming to Abuela’s for Christmas,” Eddie says quietly, sounding half-asleep. “She’s been excited to meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is ALWAYS OPEN FOR VERMONT PROMPTS @ hearteyesforbuck.


End file.
